


A New Technique

by spicedrobot



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: AU where things are chill and everyone is gucci, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, LMAO, M/M, Sex, it's tender, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedrobot/pseuds/spicedrobot
Summary: The nailsmith finds he quite likes Sheo in his element.
Relationships: Nailsmith/Nailmaster Sheo (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	A New Technique

The world opens to the paintmaster and the nailsmith after little ghost’s victory. Minds return to bodies, and the bugs that were before draw together. Small communities at first, lost and afraid ones, then, eventually, families. Week by week, the wildness of the vines is pruned and tamed, and a small, handsome village arises within the green overgrowth of the forest. Sheo never thought he would see it in his lifetime. Eyes, bright-eyed and dark, no hint of citrine poison. Children, laughing and playing; he doesn’t remember the last time he saw a young soul without deadened despair carved into their tiny face. 

Bugs and kin are not the only beings that populate the village. Vessels, tens of them, visit their home one day, led by a chagrinned Quirrel and little ghost (though little no longer; they are a spire next to their companion, nearly as tall as their newly elected sovereign).

“My apologies. I told them tales of your masterwork, and they have taken interest. Could you show them how to paint?”

How such a request thrilled him, to teach vessels and children while parents and watchers went about their day. Like nail apprentice, but joyous, curious where his previous students were grim. The paintmaster spends each afternoon in front of the tiny denizens of the forest, instructing as they studiously mimic his strokes and splatters.

Quirrel often stays and paints, little ghost as well, when they can spare the time. The only other mature eye is Niall, who sits at the back of the class, following along with them, quietly watching Sheo lead the classes. They pass their afternoons together just so, and even in the few years since they began to share their lives, Sheo can tell with certainty when Niall is feeling capricious. 

That day, Niall struggles with his linework, the paint upon his canvas muddying beneath his heavy touch.

“No, no, like I showed you,” Sheo gently murmurs, leaning over Niall’s shoulder to inspect his work.

“Show me again?” Niall replies. 

Sheo smiles and moves closer, grasping Niall’s hand. His breath is warm against his lover’s face as he leads him through the proper motions, long, light strokes with smooth, punctuated flicks. 

“Like that,” and even lower, beneath his breath, only for him. “Stay after class, and I will show you another stroking technique.”

Niall’s eyes burn into his back as Sheo continues to the front of the class, checking the other, much smaller canvases set up for his young students. It feels an age before the sun crests and the class packs their supplies, going in pairs or threes back to their homes.

When the last student leaves and the door is firmly sealed behind them, Sheo turns to claim his prize. He does not expect to see Niall’s fierce gaze half an inch away. The kiss is immediate, but soft, warm and gently scratchy from Niall’s beard. The old man’s a good kisser, and Sheo melts into it immediately, tired and satisfied.

There is a hand at his flank slipping beneath his apron, sweet fingers tracing between his legs. Sheo moans into Niall’s mouth, tipping his head to gasp and draw breath. He grins weakly, off-kilter from the surprising ardor.

“Interested in learning my tech—”

So quick for a bug his size and age, Niall draws to his knees. The heat that shoots through Sheo is immediate, lodging his words in his throat. Niall’s horn gently draws against his round belly, a clever, calloused hand shifting his apron to the side, mouth kissing directly above the place that’s suddenly very interested in its proximity. 

“Niall, this is…”

“Would you prefer to teach me, paintmaster?” 

And, _oh_ , Niall is in a rare mood. So often a gentle, patient lover, but be it the wait or the location, there is a fire in his belly, and Sheo’s blooms to match, hot and needling. Niall draws his tongue along Sheo’s slit, catching the very tip of his cock as it emerges, suckling while his eyes flicker to Sheo’s face. It matters not, Sheo can’t bear to look, knowing it would only encourage him and everything would be over quickly. One hand instead settles on Niall’s horn, the other upon his shoulder as his lover sucks him so sweetly, his cock thickening, emerging right into the liquid warmth of Niall’s mouth.

“What…what’s gotten into you…” Sheo mumbles, words to distract him from that skilled tongue. He often was the pursuer, and the nailsmith was content to be led. Usually he would gently rock into his lover’s mouth, watch as Niall’s face darkened and his eyes glazed and became wild as Sheo found his end. Now, Niall pins his hips to the door, keeps him captured, at his whim.

“The teacher’s life suits you, Sheo.” Is all his lover offers, grin barely contained by his beard. Sheo bites his lower lip, watching, feeling Niall’s breath ghosting over him, drawing him back into his mouth, sliding him deep within. Holding, suckling, with lips locked to the base of his belly. 

“O-oh…” Sheo’s groans rumble within his chest, breathy and low. 

They are both quiet lovers, but Sheo cannot seem to be so now, legs close to giving out if not for the steady hands at his waist. How smoothly, how sinfully Niall draws back and forth along his cock, his own emerged and bobbing between his thighs, enjoying Sheo’s pleasure, enjoying pleasuring him, eyes half-mast and sweet, tongue sliding along his cock’s underside as he draws deep again, works his mouth without reprieve.

Sheo could do this, he could last; he could beg to take Niall over the model’s table, very much like their first. It balances on his lips, but pleasure blackens his sight when one of Niall’s hands snakes down his body and slips inside him, rubbing just so, just the way he knows will make Sheo weak, helpless with touch, with his mouth, throat tightening around him.

“Gods, Niall—”

Niall laughs around him, vibrations rumbling along his cock, and the paintmaster holds fast and spill directly into his lover’s waiting belly, trapped between the door and the one he loves so dearly it steals his breath.

It is Niall who gently leads Sheo by the hand, making sure his jellied legs are steady, as he eases him, belly down, upon the model’s table. It is Sheo who bites into the velvet throw upon its roughened surface as Niall presses into him without resistance, made wet and so needy by his lover’s tender care. Taken apart, piece by gentle piece, Niall’s thrusts slow and mesmerizing, bringing Sheo again so quickly he cannot speak or think. He does the only thing he can do: kisses Niall desperately when his lover gently turns him over and presses inside once more, still unbelievably, needfully, wanting.

“Perhaps…I could learn something from you.”

Niall’s gentle laughter ruffles his beard, and he holds Sheo’s face as he dips to kiss him once more.


End file.
